


You're more than a wench, Woman!

by Pleistocene



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9890126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pleistocene/pseuds/Pleistocene
Summary: So, hypothetically speaking, what would happen if Tormund managed to get Brienne at least a little tipsy and she let her guard down? And the mature rating is for language, as ever.





	

‘But’ Tormund looked puzzled ‘why does he call you ‘wench’, woman?’

Brienne’s own forehead crinkled as she concentrated hard on delivering an explanation that would do justice to the intellectual thought she’d put to this very matter despite several more tankards of hard northern ale than she’d really intended to drink on this particular evening.

‘I think’ she paused, ‘I think it’s his way of teasing me. A private name. Just between he and I. It's a joke because he knows I'm not …’ she hesitated, searching for the right word ‘not … endowed in the way such women normally are.’

Brienne looked up into Tormund’s big, honest ginger-whiskered face and for a moment she really wished she could feel for him the same way she felt for Jaime because, Gods help him, she could tell he was honestly trying to understand.

‘So’ he took a deep breath ‘you’re saying he wants to fuck you but he can’t because he’s a soft southern cunt who wouldn’t fuck his way out of a brothel if his life depended on it because of …’ here he reached the limit of his intellectual or emotional comprehension and the final words were inflected with all the limpness he obviously associated with Jaime’s handling of the matter ‘his honour?’ 

Brienne was used enough by now to the way the Wilding’s generally, and Tormund specifically, characterised southerners, and the profane way they habitually expressed that opinion, that she was prepared to let most of that slide past without comment.

‘I didn’t say he wants to bed me’ she clarified.

‘Nor did I’ Tormund retorted ‘I said he wants to fuck you.’

Brienne giggled, and instantly hated herself for it. Tormund smiled indulgently.

‘I like it when you smile, lass.’

Brienne glared at him and he laughed.

‘I like it when you do that too.’

Brienne gave up and sought refuge at the bottom of her tankard.

‘He doesn’t want to f … bed me though, Tormund, he just knows I know him better than most. That’s all. We’ve been through a great deal together, he and I. I think we are friends.’ she continued doggedly ‘No, maybe not friends but … something … definitely not enemies. He is an honourable man and he knows that I know that and that means that we both know we’re … something … to each other … and and …. ‘ she tailed off under the Wildlings withering glance.

Without taking his eyes off her face, Tormund took another pull on his own tankard and gave her a little more time, just to see if she was going to dig herself in any deeper.

‘I’m just saying …’ Brienne’s head drooped forward over her arms and she muttered, as much to herself as to him, ‘I don’t know what I’m saying any more.’

Tormund leaned forward in concern ‘You’re not gonna hork, are you, lass?’

Brienne sprang back reflexively ‘No I most certainly am NOT’.

 


End file.
